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party lovers

September 17, 2018September 17, 2018 King

party lovers

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When I listen to The Weeknd, everything else in th

When I listen to The Weeknd, everything else in the world ceases to exist and it’s just me and his enchanting voice. I am taken to a sunken place of sorts. One that’s filled with money, models and hard drugs. .

I close my eyes and find myself in a million-dollar loft with naked supermodels on a queen-size bed, begging me to get in for another round. There’s an untouched line of cocaine on the nightstand and empty bottles of Perignon strewn everywhere across the room. Wine glasses on the floor have lipstick smudged on them. .

The room is dim and is only illuminated by gorgeous city lights. Mellow music plays softly from a wireless speaker. Me, I’m at the balcony gazing down at the lifeless streets below us with an unlit cigarette absentmindedly dangling from my fingers. I am in nothing but Tommy Hilfiger boxers. .

A skinny model comes and playfully tries to drag me towards the bed. I can tell she’s high from how she slurs her words and her unnecessary glee. The untouched line on the nightstand is not there anymore. I tell her to give me a few minutes then I’ll join them in bed. .

I used this photo because after much soul searching, I came to a conclusion that it is his best work. Nothing you can say can change my mind. Especially if you listen to that Tekashi boy with an atrocious voice. Anyway, have a lovely night, my good people.

This is no paid partnership with anybody. I haven’t got the numbers (and consistency) for that yet. .

You see what happened was, as I was entering the club, I met guys doing promo for this beer. They said it’s the best beer they’ve ever tasted in their life, but of course that was horseshit they’d been paid to say. I softened up when they gave me a free shot (you know a Kenyan and free shit). .

Anyway, I liked the beer and they liked me because I can be likeable sometimes. I even promised them I’d buy the beer once I got in but they didn’t believe me. So I told my plus one to take this photo so I could show them once I got out. Only problem is, when I left it was morning and all I wanted was a bed to lay my marinated head on.

I am seated at those nice neo-restaurants you find

I am seated at those nice neo-restaurants you find in the nicer side of town. The ones with interiors that leave you in awe. The ones that tempt you to pull your phone out and Snapchat it like a slayq... Never mind.
.

A friend is turning 20. I feel old and young at the same time. Old because they were just teens last year, and I left teenhood before social media 'influencing' was a career.
And young because we share a lot in common despite them being typically teens. .

I am the oldest in the table and you can tell just by looking. They’re in sweatpants and fancy Jordans and I’m in a khakis and those shoes you see there. As they drink cold sweaty milkshakes at 11pm, I’m cuddled up, freezing, sipping latte with my palms around the hot cup. The age difference hangs in the air like a fart. .

When one of the girls tells me she loves my shoes, though, my heart melts and I feel fully young now. I want to joke, "Do you know what they say about men with big feet?" But if you do that these days, they sue or go to HR. Or both. .

So instead I ask her, "Do you love the balls on my socks?"

I wonder what might have been going through the ar

I wonder what might have been going through the artist’s mind when he painted this. I bet he was once a hopeless romantic and this girl was his first love. They met in campus and went against all odds that told them that schoolmates shouldn’t date. They held hands in school corridors. They kissed in cafeterias. They smoked weed in between classes. Then munchies kicked in and they went for dates after class. They blossomed in young love.

One weekend, he goes to his lady’s for a sleepover they’d planned. He arrives earlier to surprise her with chocolate and a bottle of wine. He lets himself in and finds her with another man. Naked as apes, screwing like dogs. .

He’s never felt pain like this before. .

He goes into a rabbit hole. Never getting out of his house. Painting day and night. He’s now the stereotypical depressed artist.
.

When he finally gets out of his house, he finds a wall and paints this - an after sex photo he’d taken of her. It’s the last happy memory he has of his first love.
He paints it for closure. He paints it to numb his pain. He paints it in tears and sweat. And he paints it while he’s high as a kite. .
Because all he wants to do now is paint.

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